


Can't make you a better man

by sothatsagoodthing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Castiel, Dean dreaming, Dean's Soul, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mild spoilers up to 10x20, Raised You From Perdition, Set towards the end of season 10, Souls are resilient and beautiful and awesome, okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sothatsagoodthing/pseuds/sothatsagoodthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has always had very vivid dreams. It’s been both a blessing and a curse, depending on what’s currently going on in his life. But tonight he dreams of something he’s never dreamt before – he dreams of Castiel remaking him after pulling him from hell.</p><p>Dean is doubting his humanity under the influence of the Mark of Cain. Cas is there to assure him that he still deserves to be saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't make you a better man

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea appeared in my mind while I was mildly hungover after 5 hours of sleep and of course I had to get up and write it down before I forgot. All things considered, I think it turned out pretty well.  
> Hope you enjoy the story!  
> Remember kudos, comments and critiques make my day! :)

Dean has always had very vivid dreams. It’s been both a blessing and a curse, depending on what’s currently going on in his life. Ever since hell Dean finds himself less grateful for it.

The Mark likes to plant vivid nightmares inside Dean’s head, all the more nightmarish because in them, Dean isn’t afraid. He’s the one to be afraid of.

But tonight he dreams of something he’s never dreamt before – he dreams of Castiel remaking him after pulling him from hell. He’s wondered about it and, rationally, he knows it probably happened in an instant, the same way his healings seem to take no longer than the blink of an eye.

Dean also knows, in his rational, waking mind that Cas was kind of an emotionless dick when they first met, not to mention the fact that he was still a celestial wavelength of multidimensional intent or whatever. But here, Dean can’t help but imagine him as he is now. He’s looking a little older, as though time caught up to him during the brief interval when he was a human. Wearing his eternal trench coat (the old one though) and his blue tie and that same strange expression he had when he told Dean he was a role model back at that burger joint. Hell, he’s asleep, so there’s no way of telling if maybe Dean dreamt that too. It kind of seems likely right now. 

So maybe it’s sappy, the way he imagines Cas creating anew what the hellhounds ruined, but sue him, Dean could use something pleasant and wholesome in his life right now.

He could use a reminder that the bad he feels pulsing through his veins isn’t ingrained in his bones. That the itch to kill sits on his arm like a mosquito bite, just as impossible to remove and, the way it seems, far less temporary, but that it wasn’t always a part of him. That it isn’t _Dean_ who wants to give in and lead a simpler, far less painful life of bloodshed, black eyes and no guilt, it’s the Mark that wants him to do it and if it’s outside of him, he can fight it. Dean has a history of fighting himself and the track record doesn’t lean in his favor.

So he immerses himself in the vision of Cas, intent on his work. 

Dean watches strong hands, powerful enough to lift an anvil but deft enough to draw a complicated enochian sigil, shape his body out of clay, molding it so that it’s even all over and all the old breaks and tears are repaired. 

They smooth his skin over his body the way his mother used to make beds, making sure there are no wrinkles anywhere, except for the ones around his eyes when he laughs.

With the same grace, which with he wields an angel blade in battle, Dean sees Castiel carving out his features, making them symmetrical, but not quite, because his humanity lies in his imperfection or some sappy shit like that.

All Cas needs to do is brush his hand over the top of Dean’s head and suddenly his hair grows out like grass. The angel ruffles it with a quiet puff of laughter, before continuing with his work.

Castiel stands, no longer bending over the body, _Dean’s_ body, and raises his hands upwards. He seems to be collecting something between his palms and rolls it into spheres. He places each eye in its socket and Dean sees rippling water and sunlight falling through trees and ripe green apples all fused together inside these little snow globes and dusted with the light of stars.

And maybe Dean’s gonna get his ass flung straight back to perdition for thinking this about an angel, but God help him, he sees soft lips kissing freckles into his skin all over his body. He could swear, from where he’s perched somewhere at a bird’s eye perspective, that Cas, lingering over his face, whispers something in between pressing kisses to his nose and his eyelids. Because it’s a dream, Dean knows what he’s saying without hearing or reading his lips. But he talks himself out of it immediately. Not even in Dean’s own head will Cas ever say those words to him.

Suddenly there’s an all-too familiar rustle of wings and Cas is standing beside him. 

_Real Cas can’t do that anymore,_ Dean remembers and realizes that maybe he kinda misses it, but he’s also glad. Makes it a whole lot harder for Cas to just disappear on him in the middle of a conversation.

“Well Dean,” Castiel asks, looking up at him expectantly, “Are you satisfied?”

_Ain’t that a loaded question?_

“I guess you did all right, I mean I know my natural good looks are hard to match.” Dean deflects of course. 

But Cas just keeps staring at him, blue eyes wide, head tilted slightly to the side. It’s all so _Cas_ that Dean feels it like an ache throughout his whole body. He feels like if he got a little closer, enough to feel the other man’s warmth, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

“Are you done?” Dean asks.

“Just one thing missing. I haven’t breathed your soul back in yet. I wanted your approval first,” Cas replies and waits as Dean considers his body far below them.

“I don’t know man,” Dean finally says, “This guy is gonna go up against the apocalypse and Leviathan. Purgatory. And lots of dick angels. Can’t you make him a little more…?”

Dean gestures broadly and Cas intensifies his confused head tilt.

“… more enhanced, I guess?”

“You mean superpowers?” Cas deadpans, “Laser eyes, gills to breathe underwater, that sort of thing?”

Dean laughs softly and shakes his head. He’d honestly forgotten Cas was “pop-culture savvy” now. “Nah man, just. Can’t you make him… better?”

Dean’s voice is hoarse now and he can’t meet Castiel’s eyes. Weird how often that happens when other times neither of them can bear to look away.

“I don’t need to,” Cas says simply. Dean looks up at him and Cas is smiling, just a little, he still doesn’t do that often enough.

Castiel explains: “This is the man who stopped the apocalypse. Who beat the Leviathan. Who came to find me in purgatory. Who stood up against angels and even archangels time and time again to do the right thing. Why do I need to improve on that?”

Dean shakes his head. His hands clench around the railing on this balcony or wherever they’re standing. He thinks it might be the bunker, but the room where his body is lying is unfamiliar. If it even is a room. There seem to be no walls.

“C’mon Cas. We’re also talking about the guy who broke the first seal. And who got himself saddled with the Mark of Cain. Who became a freakin’ demon. I mean, is this guy even human anymore?” Dean is unable to keep his voice from shaking, no matter how hard he sets his jaw and clenches his fists.

“I can see his soul,” Cas says softly. His tone of voice reminds Dean of a stranger, years ago who peered at him remarking curiously: “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

“Not always and it’s nearly impossible with my grace fading,” the angel continues, “but I can still tell. This -”

And Cas reaches out to touch Dean’s arm, suddenly he is close enough to touch and suddenly Dean’s arm is laid bare, even though he tries to keep the Mark covered by his sleeve. But Cas lays two fingers on the burned red scar, like he does when he’s healing and says: “This isn’t you, Dean. I can feel the way it’s wrapped itself around your soul, it’s like a parasite. But your soul, the real you has not changed. I promise you that.”

“But I was a demon,” Dean whispers, his eyes travelling up from the Mark on his arm to meet Castiel’s stare. 

“Not anymore. A soul is a powerful thing, Dean. It can withstand much and heal itself even after great damage has been done to it. A soul isn’t tarnished by the bad that happens to it, only when it can’t find its way back to what it used to be. You still love, Dean. You love with so much passion, anyone who will let you. You still strive to help people. You still worry about not being able to save as many as you’d like to. You’re still you.”

Cas breaks their eye contact to look back down at the body. “Or you will be, once I place your soul back inside your body. May I?”

Dean looks at him for a moment, then nods. “How are you gonna do that?”

Cas smiles and Dean could swear there’s a hint of slyness to it. “Well, I did say I would breathe it back in. So I suppose I could kiss you.”

Dean absolutely freezes for a moment before remembering. 

_Dream Cas. Right._

The way he was talking sure had Dean fooled for a minute. He’s pretty sure he would never say those things to himself.

Dean clears his throat and squares his shoulders, as if a manly pose will somehow make kissing his angel a little less gay. But in here Dean can’t bring himself to care all that much.

“Sleeping Beauty kiss, huh? Let’s do it then.”

Cas nods and smiles at him again. God, he needs to figure out a way to make Real Cas smile more.

Dean takes one step closer and then Cas takes one step more. 

They stare at one another. It’s a good thing that Dean won’t die in a dream from holding his breath too long. 

Finally, the angel raises one hand and cups Dean’s cheek. Unable to help himself, Dean instantly leans into the touch and closes his eyes. Cas’ thumb gently strokes along Dean’s cheekbone. 

“I couldn’t do it if I tried,” Cas whispers and Dean can practically hear the little frown in his voice, “I couldn’t make you a better man than you already are.”

Lips touch. It’s over in less than a second but Dean barely begins to feel disappointed before he feels Cas’ lips on his again. Dean feels Cas sighing against his mouth as they melt into each other. Cas’ other hand comes up to cradle the back of Dean’s head, threading through his hair, while Deans arms slide around Cas’ waist, pulling him closer, closer, as close as he can.

It’s quiet. 

Cas pulls away too soon, but he keeps his hand lightly resting on Deans cheek and keeps his blue, blue eyes fixed on Dean’s.

“It’s done”, he murmurs, sounding a little out of breath. His hair is mussed and his face is somewhat flushed and Dean had never expected to find an angel of the lord so adorable.

“Thanks Cas. Not just for this, I mean,” Dean glances back down at his body, which is gone now. “You know. For everything.”

_Thank you for raising me from perdition. Thank you for believing I deserved to be saved. Thank you for still believing it even now._

“Of course, Dean.”

The angel disentangles himself from their embrace and every bone in Dean’s body wants to rebel against it, but Cas smiles at him and he can’t take his eyes off that smile.

Straightening his perpetually crooked tie, Cas takes the stairs back down from the balcony. There are stairs now, because Real Cas can’t zap himself around anymore. 

Real Cas. Oh.

Dean’s looking down at him now and Cas is looking up. 

“Sleep well, Dean,” he says and raises a hand in farewell.

Dean nods and smiles back. He can’t help but wonder if he will remember any of this when he wakes tomorrow morning.


End file.
